Things Time Cannot Mend
by Third Crow
Summary: What happens to Stephanie Rogers after she wakes up in the modern world? Will she be able to find her place as a stranger in the present - or will big changes make her lose her way? The sequel to The Sword for Its Sharpness.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

May 2, 2012

Stark Tower

* * *

Stark Tower had some impressive features. A 24-hour cafe for staff and residents. A fully integrated, voice-controlled computer. Six entire floors devoted to inventing technology that Stevie couldn't even have imagined. But what she enjoyed most was the Olympic-sized swimming pool.

She hadn't been able to swim very much, before. First, because her asthma hadn't let her breathe the right way, and later, because she'd been too busy chasing the Red Skull across Europe. It was a challenge she enjoyed – finding out how fast she could go, how long she could hold her breath. As an added benefit, for just that hour every day, she wouldn't have to talk to anyone. She wouldn't have to put on the Captain America face and act happy and confident when she didn't feel it.

She didn't have to talk, but she did have time to think, to try make sense of the new world she'd woken up into.

An ecological research team had found her when the ice around her plane melted, bringing it to the surface. After that, SHIELD had taken her immediately to Stark Tower, on Tony's insistence, where she was packed into a tank of brine.

" _Brine?" She'd asked Tony when he'd told her over that first breakfast, he in pajamas, she still in her hospital gown. "Like a pickle?"_

" _More like antifreeze," he'd replied, pulling a box out of the freezer that turned out to be full of waffles. He'd slotted them into a huge, chrome toaster like slices of bread._

" _They had to keep you at a constant temperature, or your extremities would thaw before your heart, and that would have been...bad. It was a hyperbaric chamber, brine tank and heart-lung machine in one. I based it on the bacta tank from_ Star Wars. _"_

 _The waffles had smelled like absolute heaven. Stevie had picked one up and started eating with her hands, too hungry to use a fork and knife._

" _I have no idea what that is," she'd said through a syrupy mouthful._

" _Oh my God, that's right! JARVIS, queue up_ A New Hope _immediately!"_

" _Yes, sir," the calm, British voice had said from nowhere._

I will never get used to that, _Stevie had thought._

After that first, clandestine breakfast with Tony the doctors had descended on her to test every organ, tissue and vital function they could get their instruments on. She'd been jabbed, put on a treadmill, stuffed into a clanging tube and covered in sticky electrode patches.

Tony had a whole set of rooms ready for her – easily four times the size of the apartment she'd shared with Ma Barnes, with rooms that poured into each other and a whole wall of floor-to ceiling windows that dimmed or brightened at a touch. It took her hours to figure out how to use the massive television, and then she found out JARVIS would operate it for her if she asked.

Tony was happy to show her new foods, new movies, new music that she'd missed – but it was like trying to read a book by the light of a fireworks display. Snatches of information coming at her randomly with no connection to each other. It was Pepper who remembered the basics.

Pepper was Tony's girlfriend, Stevie supposed, but much more than that. She ran Stark Enterprises, and, with the same efficient practicality, Stevie's reintroduction to the world. She had come down to that first breakfast as well, red hair tied back in a sleek ponytail, bringing a toothbrush and a full set of clothes, exactly Stevie's size.

Pepper had been the one to get Stevie an email address. She had explained the Internet. She had told Stevie how to operate Stark Tower's security systems, how New York had changed over the past 70 years, how to order food from the Tower chefs if she didn't want to cook, how to order clothes online if she didn't want to go out. How the War had ended. How the country had mourned her. How to find out what had happened to all the dead people she used to know.

The files on the Howling Commandos, printed on old-fashioned paper by a sympathetic intern, now sat on Stevie's nightstand. She picked them up and put them down without reading them. As she swam that morning, she thought about that stack of paper. About what she might find there.

When Stevie came out of the pool, Dr. Rao was waiting for her.

"Morning, Doctor," Stevie said, as she briskly toweled off, long blonde hair made dark by the water. "What's on the docket for today? Weight tests? Speed? Endurance?"

Dr. Kavita Rao had been the only member of the medical team who stayed after the initial tests. She was a dark-skinned, intense woman, the top her head barely reaching the shoulder of six-foot Stevie. She was, in her own words, a "transhumanist", and she absolutely refused to leave until she'd cracked the code of Erskine's serum.

"Actually…" The doctor hesitated. "There are some test results I need to speak to you about. Privately."

Was she...worried? That was a look Stevie had never seen on her before. She felt a prickle of unease.

This early in the morning, the locker room was abandoned. Stevie sat on a wooden bench, the damp slats digging into her bare thighs. Beside her, the doctor was clenching her hands in her lap, expression hidden by her chunky glasses and black hair. How bad could it be? Was she sick? She felt fine. Could the super soldier process be reversing itself?

 _You lived that life before,_ she reminded herself. _You can do it again._

But before, she'd had Bucky. She'd woken up to find she had fans, – people who loved her without knowing her. Who wanted to dress like her and took pictures of her whenever she left the Tower. Without her shield, her strength - without Captain America - what would she be to them?

 _Nothing._

"Don't leave me in suspense, doc," Stevie said, trying to keep her tone light and confident. "You're starting to scare me."

Dr. Rao took Stevie's hand gently in both of hers.

"Stephanie," she said, voice softer than Stevie had ever heard it. "You're pregnant."

Stevie thought she should probably feel something at the news. Terror, maybe. Or elation. Maybe all her feelings were canceling each other out, because all she felt was a sort of hissing numbness, like her body was full of static.

"I..." she started. Then stopped.

 _It was only one time_ , she was about to say. But that was stupid. Even she knew that was all it took. _Bucky. Oh, God._

Grief hit her like a slap, raw and fresh as the day Bucky fell from the train. It had been Christmas, 1944. The Germans had pulled out of La Gleize. She and Bucky had made love in a shed that smelled of hay and wood smoke, under bedrolls and coats to stay warm. He'd undone her braid and run his fingers through her hair. _You're so beautiful,_ he'd said. _You've always been so beautiful._

Dr. Rao's hands were small and cold in hers.

"I haven't even been sick," Stevie said, lamely. She'd barely noticed her period had stopped, and she'd dismissed it as grief, or overwork. She'd had other things on her mind at the time. Like preventing the end of the world.

"When we did your blood panel, your hormone levels looked unusual, but you're not exactly the average patient. We don't know what normal is for you," the doctor continued. "We had to be sure."

"The ultrasound?" Stevie felt slow and stupid.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I wasn't entirely honest with you. I didn't want to scare you if it turned out to be a false positive."

"And you're sure?"

"Absolutely."

Stevie stared ahead of her, as if the lockers were fascinating. They all had thumbprint locks. How expensive were they? Of course, Tony Stark had to have the most advanced locker technology, even when he could have bought combination locks like a normal person. Dr. Rao continued.

"You're about 12 weeks along – not counting the seventy years you spent in the ice, of course."

At that, Stevie finally felt something. Fear. She'd crashed a plane into the Arctic Ocean. A wall of water had hit her like a speeding train, an impact that would have killed a normal person. She'd been frozen for over half a century.

"Is the baby okay?"

"We don't know. Everything looks remarkably normal, considering. We'll need to wait and see."

 _Wait and see._ Her stomach twisted. The doctor was still talking.

"I can't imagine what you're feeling right now," she said. "But I want you to know you have options that didn't exist in 1945. There's no shame in being a single mother, even if…"

Stevie suddenly couldn't bear to sit and listen any longer. She stood abruptly, dropping Dr. Rao's hand. The other woman spluttered to a stop.

"Thank you, doctor," she said. The other woman looked vaguely shocked. Stevie was never rude. "I'm sorry, but I'd like to be alone."

"Call me any time," Dr. Rao called after her as she strode out of the locker room. "Any time, alright?"

She strode through the halls to her suite in her bathing suit, barely registering the strange looks she got from the Stark Industries employees. As she passed a reflective bank of windows she slowed to look at her abdomen. Was it softer? Rounder than before? It looked the same.

Pregnant. Bucky's child.

If he'd lived, what would they have done? Moved to California, like they'd planned? He'd have a job, she'd stay home, play the housewife, forget about the war? Should she do that now? Tony had a room full of armored suits; he bragged about fighting terrorists in Afghanistan. Talked about an initiative – a team of heroes who could protect the world from threats no one had expected. _Maybe I belong here after all_ , she'd thought. _Maybe I can do some good._

Would she have to give that up?

In her apartment, Stevie threw on some sweats and headed down to the workshop. She needed to do something, fix something. She needed not to have to act like everything was alright.

* * *

The Stark Tower workshops were all the way in the basement, full of Tony's prototype suits and classic hot rods. When he'd found out she liked to work on motorcycles, Tony had given her one of her own. Unlike her father's old shop, Stevie's had a fully integrated sound system, and as she opened up the engine of her latest project, a woman crooned in a low, sad voice.

 _Go on and take it._

 _Take it all with you._

 _Don't look back at this crumbling fool._

 _Just take it all,_

 _With my love._

She wasn't sure how long she worked before Fury came in. She'd been trying to loosen a stuck piston with a mallet – a very loud process. When she stopped for breath, he spoke.

"That's a nice machine." Fury's rich baritone cut through the music. "Is it a Harley?"

In his tailored, black suit, Nick Fury looked like the quintessential spy, at home in shadows. Years ago, he'd set out to track down and recruit the powerful and strange to protect the world from even stranger threats. Tall, dark-skinned, with a shaved head, an eye patch, and an unmistakable air of command, Fury inspired confidence – or fear, depending on where you were standing. He was the director of SHIELD, which made him Stevie's CO, she guessed.

"Indian 841," she responded.

"1943?"

"'42."

He whistled softly. "An old soldier."

"The engine's seized, but he'll run again. He just needs a little patience." She stood, put the mallet on her workbench. "You here with a mission, sir?"

"I am."

He handed her a file. She wiped the oil off her hands with a rag before she opened it. A picture was paperclipped to the front cover - a blue cube, suspended in a ring of cables. A chill spread out from her chest.

"The Tesseract?" she asked. Fury nodded.

"Howard Stark fished it out of the ocean while he was looking for you. He thought the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs."

Stevie remembered the Red Skull holding the cube on the bridge of a crashing plane, a tear in the world, shadows moving behind the stars. His scream as he dissolved. She suppressed a shudder, made herself read the file's contents.

"Someone stole it."

"He's called Loki," Fury responded with a wry smile. "He's not from around here. There's a lot we'll have to bring you up to speed on if you're in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already knew."

Loki...like the god of mischief? A criminal choosing that name must have a high opinion of himself.

"At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me," she said.

"Ten bucks says you're wrong. There's a debriefing package for you upstairs."

Fury looked at her, one eyebrow cocked. She so desperately wanted something to _do_ , something more important than motorcycle repair and medical tests. Something that would stop her from thinking. But...she'd gone into the Valkyrie before she knew about the baby. Now that she knew, could she justify the risk? She imagined what it would be like, sitting on the sidelines, while some lunatic ran amok with the key to ultimate power and Howard Stark's son tried to contain an unprecedented catastrophe without her help.

"I'm in," she said, handing the file back to him. "But you should have left that thing in the ocean."

Taking the mission was the right thing to do. There were good reasons to do it. Why did they feel like excuses?

* * *

 **Hi everyone! It's good to be back - of course it took me longer than I expected to get this up and running. "The best laid plans of mice and men" and all that. This is more of an "interquel" than a sequel. I was doing some preliminary writing, trying to figure out how Stevie got from Point A - waking up in 2012 - to Point B - the Winter Soldier storyline. Along the way, some important things changed, and I thought it'd be best to actually make this a real fic instead of a bunch of scribbles.**

 **The biggest change, of course, is Stevie's pregnancy. Why did I do that? A couple reasons. I thought of how Stevie's gender could change the story in the most extreme way. What can a female Stevie experience that our old friend Steve cannot (outside the world of MPreg, at least)? Pregnancy and parenthood up the stakes of future stories in ways I'm still working out - can you imagine Stevie navigating the cloak-and-dagger plot of Winter Soldier with a toddler to take care of? It also ties the character more firmly to the modern world, and to other characters. Tony Stark isn't just her friend anymore - he's part of her child's life. How will this effect the conflict between the two in Civil War? (If you have any ideas, let me know! I'm already wresting with that.)**

 **In part, this choice was also based on my personal experiences as a working parent - now expecting my second child, actually. It's hard to balance professional life with parenthood, no matter who you are. If you're a single parent, and a superhero, it's a bit harder! Despite the number of humans who are parents - quite a lot of us, it turns out - there aren't many superhero characters who are also parents. It's time to represent! That's my selfish reason for giving Stevie a kid, anyway.**

 **But I know why you're still reading - the random notes!**

 ***Stevie was in the ice before the invention of the first toaster waffle, which took place in 1953.**

 ***Info on the thawing process used on Stevie comes from an article entitled "Wait, THAT's how they thawed Captain America Out?" by Kit Simpson Browne on Movie Pilot.**

 ***I also did some research on the mammalian diving reflex, the history of resuscitation, and brinicles (areas of ocean water that freeze incredibly quickly) which didn't make it into the chapter explicitly, but is still super interesting. For a good book on resuscitation, read "Shocked: Adventures in Bringing Back the Recently Dead" by David Cassarett.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

May 4, 2012

Manhattan

* * *

They landed, if you could call it that, down the street from Stark Tower, just in front of Pershing Square.

 _After everything,_ Stevie thought. _After flying aircraft carriers and fighting gods, we've come right back to the start._

Already, the alien troops were coming through a hole in the sky. She couldn't get a good look at them – they glinted like metal, whether it was armor or some kind of of exoskeleton she couldn't say. They flew in a swirling cloud, using some kind of small hover-platforms that seemed to be molded into their very flesh. And they were legion.

 _Aliens are real, and they really are trying to kill us. It's like_ War of the Worlds. _And I always thought that book was far-fetched._

The team Fury had assembled were all around her: Natasha in a black catsuit with a small arsenal of handguns, Clint with his bow and arrows, Doctor Banner incongruous in a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a collared shirt, and...Thor. The god, more or less. All of them staring at the sky, looking as gobsmacked as she felt.

Thor was the first to react.

"I must speak to my brother," he began, spinning his hammer, wind and electricity stirring his long, red cape, poised to spring into the air and fly. She seized his wrist.

"No."

He frowned in confusion. All Thor's emotions were larger than life, and this frown was like a thunderhead.

"Loki knows you too well," Stevie continued. "He'll play on your emotions, use them to manipulate you. Tell me I'm wrong."

He didn't.

"Loki's set up the Tesseract on top of _my_ tower." Tony's voice came over her headset, indignant. He had flown ahead, and now he streaked by above them in his red and gold armor, firing energy blasts at random alien troops. "It's shielded. Repulsors and missiles did nothing. If you have some kind of plan, Cap, now's the time. Because if you're not too busy I could use a little...Holy shit!"

A silver...space whale...had just come through the hole in the sky. That was the only way Stevie could really describe it. Sinuous and metallic, skeletal-looking yet undeniably, horribly alive. It undulated through the air, casually scraping the side of an office building, sending broken glass and brick crashing to the street below.

"Should I bring out the big guy?" Banner rubbed his hands together nervously.

All the pieces came together in Stevie's mind. Aliens, superpowers, technology – it was all window-dressing. The tactics were simple. Troops and topography. Her resources versus theirs.

"I don't need the big guy," she said. "I need you."

Banner's eyebrows shot up under his dark curls.

"You're the smartest person in the room," she said.

"Harsh," Tony interrupted, as he came in for a landing. "I'm right here."

Stevie ignored him.

"I need you to find a way to shut that portal down. If we don't, there could be fifty more of those things," she gestured at the whale. "Waiting in the wings. Natasha, Clint, go with Banner. Don't let anything touch him until the portal's down. Not even Loki. Can you do that?" They nodded. "Tony, Thor, once you've taken them up to the Tower, concentrate on the portal. Nothing gets through." The portal was the choke point in this scenario, the equivalent of a narrow mountain pass.

 _It worked in Thermopylae_ , she thought. _It should work here_. Although, at Thermopylae the Spartans had fought Persians, not flying aliens.

"What about you?" Natasha asked as she racked the slide of her pistol with practiced efficiency.

"I'll coordinate the evacuation down here."

Tony picked up Natasha and Barton, one on each arm. "Clench up, Legolas," he quipped, before blasting off.

Thor took Banner, who gave the hammer a suspicious look. "How does that even woooah!"

Stevie let out a breath. Everyone had their orders. The plan would work, or it wouldn't. They would succeed, or they wouldn't. Now she had to do her part, lead the police, National Guard and civilians. They must be terrified. She should be terrified, really. But instead she felt - clarity. After a month of frustration, of stagnation, grief, confusion, and now, the additional complication that Dr. Rao had dumped on her, it was a relief to get back to the purity of combat. Stop the enemy. Save the innocent. All there was to it.

Alien warriors filled the streets and skies, blasting bolts of blue-white energy from weapons that looked more like staves and spears than guns. They fired at cars, buildings, groups of fleeing civilians, seemingly at random. No visible strategy, besides overwhelming firepower. No tactics, beyond creating fear. They whirled in the air like a cloud of gnats, a being with many bodies but one purpose.

 _They aren't an army,_ Stevie realized. _They're a swarm._

There were too many points of attack, too many targets to defend effectively. The whole city was a target. She had to find some help. She rounded a corner and there, like a miracle, stood six black-and-white squad cars, officers standing behind them, gun raised, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. Nothing in their training had remotely prepared them for this. A blue bolt cracked over Stevie's shoulder. She picked up speed and vaulted over the nearest squad car.

"Officers," she said. They looked as surprised to see her as they had been to see aliens pouring from the sky. She did look like a six-foot walking Stars and Stripes. Maybe that was a bit alarming up close.

"I need men in those buildings. There are people in there who could run into the line of fire. Take them through the basement or through the subway. Keep them off the streets. We need a perimeter as far back as 39th."

Their sergeant nodded, started barking orders into his radio, a little of the fear in the officers' eyes replaced by purpose.

 _Some people just need to be told what they know already_ , Stevie reflected, as she found other pockets of police, directed them to hold the perimeter, evacuate civilians. _They need to see someone who isn't panicking._ That was her job in this situation, she supposed; to be the one who wasn't panicking.

The giant, horrible, whale thing flicked its tail and took a chunk out of the Met Life building. Glass fell like rain.

 _I just hope Banner can pull it off._

* * *

Bruce's ride to the top of Stark Tower was something he never wanted to repeat, a chaos of wind and sudden, sickening lurches. Just because he knew he wouldn't be hurt if he fell didn't make him want to chance it. The huge man...god?...set him on his feet and looked up at the portal. This close, Bruce could see it in all its terrible glory - a tear in space, on the other side, a black void, alien stars, and thousands of soldiers.

"I wish you luck, Banner," the other man said.

"Yeah." He tried to keep his legs from collapsing under him. "You too."

Thor grinned fiercely, then spun his hammer until it was a blur and launched himself into the air.

 _That thing does not obey the laws of physics,_ Bruce thought, and Stark touched down behind him, Natasha on his arm, the archer conspicuously absent.

"Looks like we've all got our work cut out for us," he said, voice tinny through the suit speakers, then Stark was gone, too, flying up to join Thor circling the portal's mouth. Lighting and explosions burst overhead as the two men engaged the alien army.

"Let's get to it," Natasha said, cool as if she was heading off to another day at the office. A dead alien fell on the roof with a crunch like someone hitting a bunch of celery with a bat. He started violently. She stepped over it like it wasn't there.

"Right," Bruce said. "Where's Barton?"

"Covering our backs."

Natasha stopped him just as they were about to step out from behind a huge fan, checked around it, pistol in hand, gestured him to follow.

"There it is," she said.

The Tesseract floated in the center of some strange mechanism, a column of blue-white light ascending into the sky, where the portal gaped like some Medieval hellmouth. Beside it lay a white-haired man.

"Dr. Selvig!" Natasha ran to him, checked his pulse. He had a cut on his head, bleeding into his hair. "He's alive," she said. "But unconscious. Shame. He could have helped. If we could break through Loki's mind control."

Bruce looked at the interfaces, computer screen mounted outside the mechanism's force field. They were...strange. To say the least.

"It's like the work of an alien madman," he said to himself. "It routes energy directed at it into another dimension. An impossible shape, folding around itself…This is incredible."

"Can you get through it? Or turn it off?"

"I don't know."

Gravel crunched, and Natasha tensed beside him. Bruce looked over his shoulder, and saw Loki - god of chaos, little brother of Thor, would-be conqueror of Earth - appear in full regalia. Horned helmet, green cloak, gold armor, glowing staff.

 _He certainly doesn't believe in half measures. Wait...that staff._

Something tickled the back of Bruce's mind, but he was too busy trying not to panic to tease out what it might be. He could feel the other guy twitching. Waking up. If he felt too threatened, the other guy would come out and then he wouldn't be able to think at all. He took a deep breath. Counted four in. Held it. Counted four out.

 _My feelings are mine. My mind moves itself. I am in control._

"Well, well, well," Loki said, his voice like Bruce imagined a tiger's would sound if it could speak. "You're the ones they sent to face me? The monster and the…"

Whatever he would have said was cut off by an arrow hitting him in the neck. Loki looked...annoyed. Like a man who'd been stung unexpectedly by a fly. He made a "tt" noise, and tried to pull it out, but electricity arced from the bolt into his hand.

"Argh!" He jerked out the bolt and flung it to the ground. "Show yourself, archer!" He cried, voice carrying unnaturally. "I will reach into your mind and break it!"

Another arrow flew, Loki knocked it from the air with his staff. Another, so close behind the first that it must have been fired at the same time. Loki caught it a hair's breadth from his nose, with a smug grin. Then it exploded in his face.

That was when the Black Widow moved, leaping to kick the staff from Loki's hand. He struck at her and she barely dodged, shooting bolts from her electric gauntlets at his eyes. When he whirled on her, another arrow hit him the hand.

 _They're buying me time_ , Bruce realized. But he couldn't take his eyes from Loki's staff. What did it remind him of? Then he knew. The model Stark had made of it when they'd had it in the helicarrier – God, was it yesterday? An intelligent network, like an artificial brain. The secret SHIELD files on the Tesseract. It was the same system. The same patterns. The same origin? And then everything clicked.

 _It can't defend against itself._

Loki was swatting around himself, like a man being attacked by a pair of unusually persistent bees. As good as Barton and Natasha were, they couldn't hold out forever.

Bruce took off his glasses, and set them carefully on the roof.

"Natasha!" He yelled. "Use the staff!"

She darted her eyes at him. He didn't have time to explain, but she'd figure it out.

"On the Tesseract! Use it now!"

The last word became a roar. As always, letting the other guy out was as easy as falling asleep. His body burned; muscles bulging, bones thickening. The constant worry and clatter of his own mind clarifying to simple instinct. Before he lost himself, Bruce saw Loki's eyes widen with fear.

It felt good.

* * *

The evacuation was going as well as could be expected. Police and some off-duty military personnel were clearing buildings and maintaining the perimeter as she'd told them. Stevie's job, after rounding up everyone who could help and putting them to work, was to attract attention. She dispatched any aliens on the ground with swift strikes, or knocked fliers out of the sky with her shield, drawing fire so the regular people could get in and out unnoticed. The insect-like creatures seemed to have no awareness of this tactic, at least at first. But the more Stevie did it, the more they seemed to anticipate it - even if they had no way of observing her.

 _A swarm_ , she thought again as she ducked into an alley. _Acting like one creature. Like...the limbs of one body._

"Captain!" Her earpiece blared. It was the NYPD sergeant. She'd given him her frequency so they could coordinate their efforts.

"I'm here." Stevie crouched behind a dumpster, out of view. "What is it?"

"Our boys got some reports - the bank on 42nd and Madison. Lot of civilians trapped inside."

"I'm on it."

She was already sprinting, ducking and weaving through abandoned and burning cars, hurdling the ones she couldn't avoid. There were a lot of banks on 42nd Street, but it wasn't hard to see which one he'd meant. Stevie skidded to a stop behind a smoldering delivery truck, peered around the corner of the truck bed for a better look. Through the plate glass windows, she could see about three dozen terrified people standing in a clump, hands up in a gesture of surrender that probably meant nothing to their captors. There couldn't be _that_ many people in CitiBank on Friday morning. They'd been herded there. Why? As hostages? Slaves? Post-battle snacks? But that wasn't the important question. That was - how was she going to take out the aliens without any of the people inside getting hurt?

There was one alien standing at the front door. A second at the far end of the long room. A third, its back to the windows, facing the crowd.

 _Only three?_ _Piece of cake,_ Stevie thought. They had no idea how to secure a location. This bank was a terrible choice. What kind of planets did these rubes usually invade? Still, she'd have to be fast. Use the element of surprise and hope her speed let her take them out before anyone got hurt. If they started firing into the crowd of hostages…Stevie cut off that line of thought.

 _I'm not going to let that happen._ She took a deep breath. _Time to go._

She vaulted to the top of the truck, took two steps, and threw herself through the window - shield first.

She rolled as she hit the floor and came up ready to fight. The closest creature raised its staff and she brought the edge of her shield down hard on its strangely-jointed forearm. There was a wet crack, and before the strange weapon could hit the ground, Stevie smashed the shield back up into its face. Or where its face would be if it had one, instead of an assembly of metallic plates. The alien flopped to the floor like a broken doll.

Stevie scanned the room. The hostages were screaming, hands over their heads. Where were the other aliens? There - on her right. Clear line of fire - all the hostages were crouching in fear. Stevie hurled the shield and it rebounded from the creature's chitinous chest with a crunch like crumpling metal. She caught the shield and whirled, just in time to deflect a shot from the third alien's energy weapon. The blast bounced back at the shooter, leaving his chest a smoking ruin. That was when the first alien jumped her from behind.

Stevie staggered back - its hands were wrapped around her face, clawing at her eyes. Obviously it wasn't as dead as she'd thought. It keened into her ear, a scream almost too high to hear. She tried to get a grip on it, throw it off her - but its skin was slick and smooth, all its joints bending in ways she didn't expect. She couldn't get any purchase. A claw opened up a gash across her cheek. _Dammit!_

Suddenly, there was a flash of blue, and the alien went limp so abruptly the Stevie almost lost her balance. She turned. The alien lay on the ground, smoking and charred. A woman stood in front of her – dark-haired and disheveled. She held one of their staff weapons, looking from it to the alien corpse with a horrified expression.

"Thanks," Stevie said, catching her breath. The woman started.

"I think, maybe," Stevie reached out and took the staff gently. "You should leave this with me."

"Oh…right."

Stevie got everyone to the nearest subway entrance, sending the dark-haired hero on her way with a hearty handshake.

Out in the street, she took a moment to look up at the hole in the sky. It was apocalyptic – the silver swarm, lighting bolts, blue-white blasts of force and fiery red explosions. Tony and Thor - keeping the reinforcements bottled up. They were all playing for time, Stevie knew. If Banner couldn't shut down the portal, there was no way they could stop an entire alien armada from steamrolling over Manhattan.

As if her thoughts had made it happen, Stevie's earpiece crackled to life.

"I've got the key to the portal," Natasha said, even her cool voice betraying the urgency of the situation. "Any reason I shouldn't close it?"

Stevie felt a surge of relief that became exhilaration. They'd done it- beaten incredible odds. It was going to work.

But just as she opened her mouth to give the order, Tony's voice interrupted.

"Um. Might want to wait on that."

Stevie saw a red-and-gold figure streak away from the portal mouth at full speed.

"Tony," she barked into her headset. "What are you doing?"

"I got a nuke coming in," he said, the barest tremor under his usual bravado. "It's going to blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it."

Stevie felt her blood run cold. She'd done some reading about how the War had ended. She knew what a nuclear weapon could do. Shadows burned into the buildings. People's eyes melting out of their heads. It had given her nightmares. Fury's bosses had fired _that_ at New York? Then, the rest of Tony's message suddenly registered.

"Into the portal? Tony...that's a one-way trip!"

He didn't answer, but she saw it in the sky - a shining spot intercepting a dark one, pulling it off course, right past the dot that was Thor, into that tear in the sky. One second passed. Two. Three.

An explosion bloomed on the other side of the portal, like a second sun. There was another high scream - this time from a thousand throats. Stevie covered her ears and doubled over in pain. The alien warriors stiffened, twitched and fell, the huge flying leviathan crashing down atop the Roosevelt Hotel.

"Captain," Natasha said over the earpiece. "Should I close the portal?"

 _No,_ Stevie thought. _Tony_ 's _still in there._ But that fireball wouldn't magically stop when it reached the gateway. How many people lived in Manhattan? A million? _A million lives against one,_ she thought. _No choice at all._ But still she hesitated. One moment. Two.

"Close it," she said - but the words had barely left her mouth when she saw it - something falling through the gate, shining red and gold, slipping through the tear just as it sealed itself.

Stevie's heart leaped. He'd made it, scraping by just under the wire. He'd buzz the city, maybe play some loud song in celebration. But then she realized he wasn't flying. He was falling.

"Tony!" she shouted into her headset, but there was no answer.

Thor turned in the air, dove after the falling man like a bird of prey, but he was too late - a huge green figure launched itself from the top of Stark Tower and caught him. Banner. The Hulk.

Stevie ran to the Tower as fast as her long legs would carry her, arriving just in time to see the Hulk deposit Tony on the ground between rows of wrecked cars. He raised his huge hand to Tony's face and removed his mask with surprising gentleness. Stevie dropped her shield and knelt beside him, the armor pads on her suit crunching on the broken glass.

"Tony." She touched his cheek. No response. Was he breathing? It was impossible to tell with him locked into his stupid suit. She heard Thor land heavily but didn't turn around. She felt a hollow disbelief. They'd just won. He couldn't die now. Not after everything else. Not Howard's son, too.

The Hulk roared. A sound that mixed the primal terror of an enraged bear with with the volume of a foghorn at close range. Stevie almost shrieked.

Tony came to with a start.

"Ahhh!" He looked around, limbs moving feebly in his underpowered armor. "What the hell? What just happened? Please tell me Hulk didn't kiss me."

Stevie rested her hand on his suit, just above his glowing heart, and laughed to keep from crying.

After they had reunited, Tony insisted they all go out for something called "shawarma." Stevie had never heard of it, but after the long shot they pulled she was ready to celebrate - and Tony certainly deserved it. They'd had to break him out of his depowered suit like a lobster from its shell.

Shawarma turned out to be a richly spiced chicken in flatbread, which might have been available somewhere in 1944, but not on the street Stevie lived.

 _Maybe_ _the future isn't so bad after all._

Everyone's post-victory energy was flagging, and they chewed in silence as the store's proprietor - a supremely unflappable gray-haired man - swept brick dust and glass from the floors. Tony suddenly put down his half-eaten sandwich.

"Gotta hit the head," he explained. "Hey, are the facilities still standing?"

The stone-faced man nodded and pointed without pausing.

After a moment, Stevie followed him. He was, after all, her best and oldest friend in this strange new world. Who else did she have to tell? And after almost being killed by aliens and fried by a nuclear bomb in the same afternoon, she felt like pregnancy was maybe not the most frightening thing she had to deal with.

The door had come half off its hinges, and Stevie could see Tony at the sink, rinsing his face. His hands were shaking, she noticed. Not so unusual after a fight like that. She knocked on what was left of the door.

"Oh, hello," Tony said with a lopsided smile. He looked around for a second. "I think the paper towels were a casualty of war," he said, resignedly drying his hands on the front of his black trousers. "These things are not absorbent at all."

"That was a brave thing you did," Stevie said.

Tony feigned surprise. "What?" He put his hand on his chest, over the glowing light where the reactor in his chest shone through his shirt. "You mean where I put my own safety on the line to push a nuclear warhead through a horrific space portal and saved 1.6 million lives? Another day at office, really."

"I'm pregnant."

Tony blinked. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just that was bit of a non-sequitur."

A look of horror slowly dawned on his face. "It isn't...I mean, it's not my father…"

Stevie realized what he was asking and felt her face go hot with embarrassment.

"Oh, God! No, no...it's not your...not Howard's. Definitely, definitely not."

"Thank God," Tony said, leaning back against the sink, which creaked dangerously. "That would have been so awkward."

"Worse than this conversation?"

"Who…?" He began, then cut himself off. "You know, that's none of my business. This is great news! Congratulations! I get to be Uncle Tony right? Maybe make a little suit, just for training purposes…" He must have seen the look on Stevie's face, because he quickly backtracked. "Maybe not."

"You know," he continued after a moment. "I've been told I'm not the best at providing emotional support to people. Is this a happy thing? Is this 'get excited' thing?"

Stevie paused to think about it. She'd thrown herself into a fight that was way above her weight class just to be able to stop thinking about her pregnancy for two days. Last month she'd woken up in a strange world, and wondered if she belonged anywhere. Yesterday she'd punched a god. Today she'd helped save at least a million lives. She closed her eyes for a moment, smelled spices and bread, dust and a hint of Pine Sol. Heard the old man's broom fighting a losing battle with the rubble. She wanted to live.

"Yeah," she said, opening her eyes. "It's a 'get excited thing."

* * *

 **This chapter was so much fun. I changed the tactics of the Battle of New York to play up Stevie's focus on strategy. In my continuity, pre-serum Stevie was a military history and strategy buff, while pre-serum Steve tried to learn how to box and got into fights in alleyways. That would alter their approaches to superheroic battles.**

 **I liked my brief detour into the mind of Bruce Banner, and hope the POV switch wasn't too jarring. Let me know if it was.**

 **History note: Pine Sol was invented in 1929, and is a familiar odor to Stevie. I have to look these things up a lot.**


	3. Diary 1

_July 27, 2012_

 _Dear Bucky,_

 _We're having a girl. They can already tell – they have this machine now that can show you what your baby looks like before it's even born. No surprises. It was incredible to see it...her...moving around. Everything in place, little hands, little feet. I could see her face. I wish you could have been here._

 _Being pregnant is...strange. It's like you suddenly join a secret club, and total strangers want to talk to you about it. "When are you due?" "What are you having?" "Do you have any weird cravings?" "When I was pregnant, etc., etc."_

 _I've seen it all happen from the outside, of course – with your mother's friends, or other women in the building. I just never expected it to happen to me. I was so sick all the time, before. Having a baby would probably have killed me. Now, I'm almost guilty when I have to tell people how easy it's been. Other women like to tell me how terrible their pregnancies were, how they couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and had shooting pains through their back. I just sort of nod and change the subject. The benefits of being a super-soldier, I guess. The most that's happened to me is that I can't stand the smell of ketchup and my feet swell up at the end of the day._

 _Oh, and people follow me and take pictures. Yes, I'm the toast of the gossip columns these days! Can you believe it? The first time I saw my own picture at the newsstand with a headline about my "baby bump" I bought a copy to show to Pepper. It was just so ludicrous. Everyone has their guesses about who the father is, of course._

 _I haven't told anyone. I'm not ashamed. What we had was special. I won't make it cheap._

 _There's so much more...stuff...for parents now. That's different. My dad used to joke that he and mom kept me in a dresser drawer for the first couple of weeks. Tony Stark was seriously considering getting a me a crib that would track our baby's heartbeat and send updates to my phone. Bottle warmers, musical toys, baby carriers - even the suite won't be big enough to hold everything if he keeps going._

 _I've thought about getting our baby baptized. After all those Sundays at church with your mother, I thought maybe you would have wanted her to be raised Catholic, like you. But the priest said if I wasn't planning to convert myself I should baptize her in my own church. By the way, Catholic churches have changed a lot- no more Latin! I still like to go and sit in, though. Assumption smells exactly the same – incense and wood polish. It must have seeped into the walls._

 _Dr. Rao goes over everything with the obstetrician, but so far the word is "normal". Everything looks "normal". The baby is developing "normally". Which doesn't stop me from worrying._

 _I can feel our daughter moving. She'll be here in three months. I hope I'm strong enough for her._


	4. Chapter 3

August 25, 2012

Manhattan

* * *

 _At least press conferences are more interesting when Tony Stark is the host,_ Stevie thought.

She wandered through a skeletal building, half-crushed by one of the aliens' living battleships as it fell. In the months since the invasion the rubble had been cleared away. Now the building was in the first stage of reconstruction, naked metal beams protruding from half-finished walls.

The aliens had been called the Chitauri it turned out - at least, that was as close as humans could pronounce it. Even though it was unsuccessful their invasion had caused incredible damage. Whole city blocks had been rendered uninhabitable, alien corpses and strange weapons strewn over the streets. Luckily, Tony Stark was there to help. He had dubbed the rebuilding effort "Project Resilient" - a chance to build "the city of the future."

In the gutted building, surrounded by scaffolds and plastic sheeting, Tony had set up models and prototypes of what the neighborhood would one day become – skyscrapers that grew their own food, that moved and breathed and could talk to you, probably. The centerpiece of the exhibition was the Solar Tree – a standing fan of high-efficiency solar cells that moved independently to track the sun. The prototype model on display here was ten feet tall, all silver and shiny black. To demonstrate how much power it could produce, Tony had hooked it up to one of his suits, which hovered and projected holograms while the man himself walked among the visiting politicians and reporters.

Stevie paused by a holographic display table and tried to ease her back, shifting from foot to foot to stretch her back. Super-soldier or not, the baby was taking up a lot of her personal space. The display cycled through its hypothetical life, the neighborhood growing terraced gardens and solar panels before resetting at the beginning.

 _Amazing. Howard, you should be proud of your son._

"Must be a shock for you."

While she was lost in thought a silver-haired woman had joined Stevie at the table, elegantly dressed in a cream-colored suit and pearls.

"Pardon?"

"All the change in the city since your day. Sorry." She extended a hand, which Stevie shook. "Linda Buckingham."

"Pleased to meet you. And yes," Stevie answered with a rueful laugh. "Shock is a bit of an understatement."

"What are your thoughts on this project, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I think it's great," Stevie replied wholeheartedly. "It's the future we all dreamed of back in '43. I'm just glad I get to be part of it."

"1943. The first Stark Expo." The woman nodded, and looked back at the model. "With your connection to history, aren't you concerned that historic buildings are being irreversibly altered?"

Stevie felt a flare of irritation. She'd met reporters like this before – people who wanted to get something controversial or inflammatory to make people read them. Now this one was trying to get her to badmouth Tony Stark. _Not today, lady._

"You want know what I miss most?" Stevie said, trying to keep the smile on her face. "The Brooklyn Navy Yard. The _Maine_ was built there. My father used to take me there, to see the ships. Nothing's built there anymore - it's all gone." She stared the other woman in the eye. "Everything changes, Miss Buckingham. Excuse me."

Stevie almost stomped away. The woman was just trying to get a good headline. It shouldn't bother her so much. _Maybe pregnancy is making me irritable._ It was certainly making her hungry. She snagged an egg roll and made her way to the Solar Tree, where Pepper stood alone.

"Not entertaining a VIP?" Stevie asked.

"I have a moment's reprieve, thank goodness," Pepper said with a wry smile. "How are you? Comfortable? Do you need a chair?"

Stevie shook her head. "I'm fine. You're doing all the work. I'm just here for moral support."

"The work's already done by this point," Pepper said ruefully. "That's how these things go. You prepare for months, and then it either goes as planned...or it doesn't."

"Well, from my perspective it looks fantastic. How much of this did Tony put together himself?

"Most of it, actually. The think tank worked on the development plan but a lot of the breakthroughs are his. This is." She gestured at the tree.

"That's a lot to put together. When does he sleep?"

"He doesn't." Pepper sighed. "That's the problem."

"It hits some people that way," Stevie said. "Their first big fight. He was never really trained for it. He'll be alright. He just needs time."

"I'm not sure time is all he needs." Pepper rubbed the bridge of her nose briefly, then looked back up, smile once again in place. "Speaking of plans – are you feeling ready for the big day?"

Stevie went along with the change in subject. "Ready as I can be. I did a lot of babysitting back in the old days. I know my way around a diaper."

"Really? Babysitting?"

"Oh, yeah," Stevie said. "The building was full of kids. The women helped each other out, and so did I. It wasn't like I was going out dancing."

Pepper had opened her mouth to respond when the wall exploded. Without thinking, Stevie pushed the nearest table over and dove behind it, pushing Pepper ahead of her. Rubble rained down around them.

"Are you all right?" Stevie asked.

Pepper nodded, looking shaken, concrete dust in her hair."What the hell was that?"

Stevie peered over the table's edge. There was a ragged hole in the wall, beams leaned crazily out over the room. The air was full of screams and the sound of running. Where was Tony? There – standing with his back to her, fists clenched. Above him, a masked and goggled man hovered in some kind of harness – a jet pack? His hand was outstretched, wearing some kind of metal gauntlet.

 _Move to flank, then rush him._ Stevie's hand went to her back. The shield would resist any energy beam he could produce…

The shield. Which was back at the Tower. Because she wasn't wearing her armor- she was in a dress and pumps. And she was pregnant. _Dammit._

"If you wanted an invitation," Tony was saying, bravado not quite covering the tension in his voice. "You should have called my secretary."

"I didn't want to be a guest," the man shouted. "I wanted to be part of the show! Put your suit on, old man! I'm going to show these people something they haven't seen before."

"Your funeral," Tony said, and gave a quick whistle.

The suit that had been posing harmlessly by the tree folded around Tony, and in an instant the two men were above the crowd, shooting bolts of energy at each other. Stevie ground her teeth in frustration. _If I had my shield!_ But the guests were everywhere, some running into each other, some frozen in terror.

 _We need to get them out of here._

"Pepper," Stevie said. "I need your help. There's a big group of people on your right – get them together and take them out the east exit. I'll round up everyone else."

Pepper set her jaw and ran from behind the table. Stevie took a moment to check on the fight above them. Tony was obviously trying to keep the fight away from the people on the ground, but the other man wasn't. A stray blast from his gauntlet hit a beam and the metal liquefied instantly, white-hot droplets hissing on the concrete floor.

Using barked orders and the occasional shove, Stevie hustled the rest of the civilians out of one of the building's open walls into the street. She looked back. _Maybe I could help...Maybe..._

There was a creak and a beam, weakened at the base, began to fall toward the fleeing crowd. Tony caught it just in time, and the other man hit him square in the back.

"Tony!"

He was falling. Without a thought, Stevie ran back toward the building. Tony was trying to get up, but his suit looked scorched, and made a horrible grinding noise whenever he tried to move. The other man looked at the fallen Stark and laughed.

"I told you you'd get a show!" He yelled to the crowd of horrified onlookers. "The defeat of Iron Man!"

Stevie was crouched behind a wall. He didn't see her.

 _Hit him with a table. He'll never see it coming._

Inside her belly, the child kicked – and Stevie froze.

The man was saying something about selling his technology to the highest bidder. Tony was still trying to get up. There was a broken beam just ten feet away from her.

 _Throw it like a spear. Target his power pack. But what if it doesn't work? He'll cook you, and the baby._

The man turned toward Tony, lifted his hand. Stevie's heart hammered.

 _He'll kill Tony. But the baby._

She hesitated a moment, two. The man gave a mocking salute and flew away.

* * *

After some time in the workshop, Tony had left with his old friend, Air Force Colonel James Rhodes. Rhodes had his own suit, like Tony's, but his was matte gray and covered with conspicuous weapons.

"Don't worry, Cap, I'll watch his back," he had said, smile flashing white in his dark-skinned face. "And when I find the Melter, Tony here will polish my suit. By hand."

"Keep dreaming, Rhodey," Tony had responded. "The Melter? That is a terrible name."

"He melts things. What were you going to call him?"

The argument had continued as both men flew out of the landing bay at the top of Stark Tower, leaving Stevie and Pepper behind.

Now, Stevie paced in the living room of her enormous suite. She'd made herself coffee and been unable to drink any of it. She kept looking at the clock, but the hands didn't seem to move at all.

"Shouldn't you be sitting around with your feet up?" Pepper was at her door, holding a tub of ice cream.

"I'm pregnant, not sick," Stevie said. "Besides, I hate sitting still while..." She gestured vaguely at the wall of windows, out at the city where, somewhere, Tony and Colonel Rhodes might be fighting the Melter at this very moment.

Stevie heard the clinking of dishes, drawers opening and closing in the kitchen, and then Pepper handed her a bowl and spoon and pushed her gently toward the couch. The ice cream was full of chocolate chunks and marshmallows, and for a few minutes the women ate in silence.

"How do you do it?" Stevie asked Pepper.

The redhead set her bowl down carefully on the glass coffee table.

"Before Tony made the suit," she said, "if he was out all night I'd see it in the gossip blogs the next day. He'd have gotten embarrassingly drunk somewhere, or gotten a hotel room with two super models. I slept fine those nights."

Pepper looked at her hands, folded neatly in her lap.

"He's so much...better now. He cares about other people. Project Resilient never would have happened before the suit. But the tradeoff is..." She shrugged.

"Sometimes he flies a nuclear bomb into a dimensional portal full of aliens?" Stevie filled in.

Pepper laughed.

"I tell myself that it's no different from what anyone who loves a firefighter, or a police officer or a soldier goes through. They all have to say goodbye, knowing that something might happen. That the person they love might not come back. If they do it, I can too."

Stevie thought of the day she'd sent Bucky away, in his crisp uniform. How he'd never really been the same when she got him back.

 _I sent someone away to war, once. I thought I'd never have to do it again._ She touched the curve of her stomach, felt her baby shift inside her. Would she have to go back to that – now that she was a mother? Sending other people off to fight? _Can I live with that?_

She looked out the window again, at her city - so familiar, yet so strange.

 _Will I have a choice?_

* * *

 **Hello again, all! Sorry for the gap in posting - I had a baby. Also, This chapter gave me serious grief. I went back and forth about whether Stevie should jump into the fight or not. I decided to go with this option because it seemed so opposed to her usual character. I think in future chapters, it will make sense. But, of course, let me know what you thought of Stevie's decision.**

 **This chapter is based on an actual Marvel comic called "Iron Man: Coming of the Melter".**


	5. Diary 2

_October 29, 2012_

 _Dear Bucky,_

 _We have a daughter._

 _It's so strange to write this._

 _We have a daughter, and she's perfect._

 _You told me once that all babies look alike, but she looks just like you. I wish you could see her. I wish you could be here._

 _It's 3 a.m. She's asleep but I can't relax. I look at her and I feel like crying. How can I do this without you?_

 _This letter isn't making sense. I have to get everything in order. Our daughter was born on October 26_ _th_ _. The doctors said it was an easy delivery – but it felt hard enough to me! I named her Margaret Mary, after Peggy and your mother. Margaret Mary Rogers._

 _Dr. Rao checked in on her immediately, of course. Said she's healthy and "on the big side of normal". Will she be like me? When will I know? What would it be like for her to grow up strong enough to lift a car? Fast enough to outrun one? Never being sick, or weak?_

 _There's a full moon tonight, but the city lights make it look so small. Do you remember the moon in La Gleize in that old church? The snow falling through the roof?_

 _Our daughter already has hair – it's darker than I expected. Darker than mine. Her eyes are kind of a murky gray, but I hope they'll be green like yours. She's sort of squashed looking to be honest, but she's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I look at her and want to protect her from ever being hurt. But there's so much that could hurt her. If I was smart, I'd hide in a cabin for the rest of our lives._

 _I'm trapped between the most intense joy and most terrible fear._

 _How can I do this, without you?_


	6. Chapter 4

December 27, 2012

Stark Tower

* * *

Stevie had been pacing for what might have been minutes or hours. The lounge of the Stark Tower medical center was designed to soothe and comfort waiting family and friends - all soft pastels, muted classical music and tasteful flower arrangements. The knowledge that, somewhere behind that door, Pepper was fighting for her life lent the intentionally bland room an air of suppressed menace.

At least Dr. Rao and Tony could do something to help. They'd been in the medical lab with Pepper practically non-stop, trying to purge her of the poison Aldrich Killian had injected her with. Extremis. Another attempt to create supersoldiers. Another failure. The results were as unstable as they were dramatic. Subjects could regrow limbs, survive thirty-story falls - but if they lost control, they would explode. Literally.

Something in Stevie's chest wound tighter and tighter. She hated being helpless. Hated it more than anything. _If I don't hear any news soon, I snap and start throwing vases._ At least the pacing was good for something - in a sling, strapped to Stevie's chest, Maggie slept, tiny hands curled next to her face.

Stevie paused for a moment, looking at that little face. Maggie had been born two months ago. The first time Stevie had seen that face, red and howling, she'd felt an emotion without a name. She felt it now. It was love and fear. Grief and joy. All equally strong, almost indistinguishable. Maggie had been born with thick, dark hair, like her father, even her eyebrows surprisingly defined. Stevie gently traced one eyebrow. Maggie grunted and squirmed.

"Okay," Stevie murmured. "Okay. I'll stop bugging you." She bounced gently until the baby relaxed and settled back into soft snores.

Dr. Rao came through the double doors and collapsed into a chair. The woman looked as tired as Stevie had ever seen her. She took off her glasses and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"How is she?" Stevie asked.

Rao groaned and flopped her head back, eyes closed.

"Metabolic activity is normal. No sign of nanites."

The tight knot of wire in Stevie's chest released. _Normal._

"Her body is reverting to its base genome," the doctor continued, words slurred with weariness. "The challenge now is to keep her immune system from killing her while it does. She'll be on immunosuppressants for a little while. You won't be able to see her until they're done."

"But she'll be okay?"

"She'll be okay."

"Oh, thank God." Stevie sat down next to the doctor. Maggie squirmed again, so she stood back up and paced around the waiting room.

"How is that little one?" Dr. Rao asked, without opening her eyes. "We'll need to run a two-month checkup once I've had a chance to shower."

"She's still living in reverse," Stevie said with a wry smile. "Sleeps all day, parties all night."

"Normal, I understand," Rao said.

 _Is she?_ Stevie thought. Maggie was the daughter of the only successful supersoldier, and had been frozen in utero for seventy years. There was some question of whether Stevie's enhancements would even pass on to her daughter, and, if so, how strongly. Dr. Rao and the pediatricians said they'd just have to "see what develops".

The door opened to emit Tony Stark, looking rougher even than Dr. Rao. He had a black eye and a split lip from his final confrontation with Killian and his goons. While Dr. Rao had reversed Pepper's genetic changes, he'd been working to neutralize the nanites in her bloodstream. He probably hadn't slept in 72 hours. Instead of sitting on a chair, Tony collapsed onto the floor and leaned back against the wall.

"Tony," Stevie said. He grunted in reply. She kicked his foot.

"Ow! Stop it." He opened his eyes to glare up at her. "What? Pepper's fine. She's in a clean room. She told me in no uncertain terms to let her sleep."

"We haven't had much time to talk since you got back."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Stevie felt her relief shift into fury. "The day I was supposed to fly to Malibu for Christmas, I learned – from a television news broadcast – that someone blew up your house. I -" Maggie stirred against her, and Stevie realized she'd almost been shouting. She lowered her voice to a hiss. "I thought you were dead!"

Tony rubbed a hand across his face. "Look, I know I did some stupid things."

"Stupid!" Stevie whisper-shouted at him. "You threatened a criminal on television. You dared him to hit you. What did you think would happen?"

"I'm sorry," Tony said. He looked so tired that Stevie felt guilty for pushing him. But she'd been out of her mind with worry for days, and he'd been too busy with Pepper for her at shout at him before. "What else do you want me to say, Rogers? People got hurt because of me. People I care about. I didn't want it to happen. I'm sorry."

When she'd seen the footage on the news, Tony's cliffside mansion burning, Stevie's first thought had been to hop in the jet and go. She'd been halfway out the door when she remembered Maggie. She couldn't go haring off on missions anymore. It wouldn't be responsible. She'd waited and worried - and when they'd come back, Pepper infected with Extremis, she'd waited and worried some more. It had been like that fight with the Melter, only worse.

 _I'm not letting my friends go to war without me. Never again._ Stevie looked down at her sleeping daughter and felt a stab of guilt. _Sorry, Mags_ _. I couldn't live with myself if I did._

"You're damn right you're sorry," she said. "I'm not leaving you alone again. The next time you want to poke a bear, I'm going with you. You can't be trusted by yourself."

"Yes sir," Tony snapped a sarcastic salute, before leaning back against the wall and falling asleep.

* * *

Pepper's immune system recovered more quickly than Dr. Rao had hoped - she was well enough for Stevie to see her the next day. This time, Maggie was awake, staring around her with wide, curious eyes.

Pepper sat up in bed, looking remarkably healthy.

"How do you feel?" Stevie asked.

"A bit drained," Pepper said. She didn't look it - her skin was radiant. Against the white of the pillows, her red hair glowed like sunrise over snowy hills.

"You look great, for someone in a hospital bed."

Pepper smiled weakly.

"When Extremis started working," she said. "I felt...powerful. But unstable. Like there was a bomb inside me that could go off at any time. It was like...being at the top of a roller coaster, waiting for the drop."

"Sounds terrifying," Stevie said.

"It's not like that for you, is it?"

"No." Stevie thought back to what it was like, that first day, when she'd come out of the pod Howard Stark had made. "At first - Imagine your whole life you've been wearing a lead overcoat. You've had cotton up your nose and blinkers on your eyes. One day someone takes them all off, and you can see and breathe and move for the first time. That's what it felt like."

She looked at her hands, holding her daughter's small, delicate head. The same hands that could rip the door off a car.

"Now, it's part of me," she continued. "I don't have to control it. Like you don't have to worry you'll accidentally punch someone in the face when you try to shake hands."

Pepper chuckled. "There are some people I'd like to punch 'accidentally' while shaking hands." Stevie saw Pepper look at her own hands, resting on the coverlet. Her normally perfect nails were ragged and broken.

"I killed someone," she said softly. "Someone I knew. I should feel...different. Worse. Something."

Stevie suddenly remembered the first men she'd killed. There had been three. She'd smashed one's face into a wall, crushed another's throat with her shield and threw the third of a catwalk. Three men in as many seconds. She shook her head.

"It's different for everyone," she said.

"God," Pepper said. "I was so afraid. Just - when the house blew up, and the suit...and getting kidnapped!" She gestured vaguely, as if trying to pull words out of the air. "It was like Obadiah all over again. Looking down the barrel of a gun and knowing there was nothing I could do. Like...being a rabbit. How do you stand it?"

Maggie started to squawk, and Stevie turned away to pull her shirt up.

"Sorry," she said. Motherhood had made her, suddenly, a great deal less embarrassed about some things. Pepper waved her hand in a "no problem" sort of gesture. Maggie situated, Stevie continued.

"There's something simple about a fight," she said. "There's a right side and a wrong side. Protect the innocent. Punch whoever gets in the way."

"Refreshingly direct," Pepper said.

"The kind of decisions you have to make for the company - where there's no right or wrong answer and you won't even know how it works out for months - those would scare me silly."

Pepper laughed. "Well, management is pretty terrifying."

Maggie pulled off and Stevie deftly pulled her shirt back down.

"That was fast," she said. Maggie grunted in reply. "Whoops, that's my cue. Diaper duty. Sorry."

"Don't be," Pepper said. She gave a jaw-cracking yawn. "I need to get some sleep anyway."

Stevie stopped at the door.

"Pepper," she said. "You can talk to me. Anytime."

The other woman smiled weakly, looking small in her mountain of sheets and pillows. "I know," she said. "Thank you."

* * *

 **Thanks to everyone who's been reading - both returning and new. Thanks for giving me a chance - or for coming back - and spending your valuable free time on my story. Hope you like it!**

 **In this chapter, Stevie reacts to the events of Iron Man 2, and decides that she can't stand by and let others go into danger, despite her new responsibilities. As usual, I welcome your feedback.**


	7. Diary 3

_February 5, 2013_

 _Dear Bucky,_

 _Peggy's alive._

 _I asked for the files on the old team months ago, so I could find out what happened to them once I was...you know. Gone. I couldn't find the courage to read them for months._

 _Dugan and Jones stayed with SHIELD. Morita became a doctor like he planned. Dernier went back to his wife and kids. He had 26 grandchildren and 6 great-grandchildren before he died. Falsworth did something hush-hush for the Brits – with Stefan, the kid from Weapon X, if you can believe it._

 _I'd hoped Stefan was alive, at least, but he died in 1996. Heart attack. Maybe some of the other Weapon X kids are still around, but I don't want to find them. I hope they've forgotten what happened to them. I don't want to turn up like a ghost, dragging up all those terrible memories._

 _Howard got married - surprise, surprise - and had a son who's him times ten. Tony. He's a great guy, but who am I kidding? You'd hate him._

 _Howard is dead, too. And his wife. Car accident in 1991._

 _But Peggy…_

 _I went to see her. I waited until last week. First, I told myself that me being pregnant would confuse her. Then, that Maggie was too young to travel, I was too busy._

 _I was afraid._

 _She forgets, Buck._

 _Every time she sees me, it's like the first time. When she sees Maggie, she cries. She knows immediately, of course, who the father is. She's so happy, so relieved._

 _Then, I go to get a drink of water and she's forgotten again._

 _She worked so hard. She went back to New York after the war. She helped make SHIELD what it is, even though they just wanted her to answer phones and make coffee. I should have been there with her, fighting beside her. It would have been easier for her. She wouldn't have been the only one._

 _But now, she's done the heavy lifting, and all I can do is keep going back to visit, again and again, no matter how much I hate it. The truth is, I'd rather remember her the way she was. Young, fierce, sharp. Unstoppable. I'd rather not remember her like this. But this is her, too._

 _Oh, she got married. No surprise there. Nice guy – fellow SHIELD agent. No children, but a niece. Maybe that's easier. Being around Howard's son all the time is strange enough._

 _The nurses say she's better after I visit. That she's more...herself. If this is all I can do for her; I'll do it. Because she deserves it all. And, of course, every visit might be goodbye. Then the team will all be together again. Except for me._

* * *

 **Hello, beautiful readers! You may remember Stefan from my previous work - The Sword for Its Sharpness - where he was a traumatized mutant kid who'd been experimented on by a Nazi scientist. If I ever have time I'll write a spin-off where he and Falsworth engage in Cold War skulduggery, like some kind of espionage-focused Batman and Robin. Or, you know, if you want to write that story - go for it!**

 **"Hey, wait," you may be saying. "What about Erik? You know, Magneto? What happened to him?" You will find out, dear reader. You will find out, I promise.**


	8. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

March 12 , 2013

The Wakhan Corridor, Afghanistan

* * *

The road was rough, and the wheel of the jeep jerked in Stevie's hands with every bump. A thick cloud of dust stuck to the windshield, stirred up by caravan's wheels and the ever-present wind. A particularly large rock hit the undercarriage with a bang, and she cursed.

"A bike would've been better," she muttered, squinting through the streaky glass. She had to run the windshield wipers constantly just to see.

"Thinking of taking Valentino out for a spin?" Natasha lounged in the passenger seat, feet up on the dash. The ex-spy looked supremely nonchalant, catlike in her incongruous relaxation.

"He's been feeling neglected lately," Stevie answered. She'd barely had any time on her '42 Indian since she'd finally finished refurbishing it. "My free time took a big hit lately. Can't imagine why."

Natasha smiled. "Terrain's too rough for a bike, anyway," she said. "A horse - now that _would_ be best."

"A horse? Is this the Wild West?"

"It's the only way to get around out here," Natasha continued. "The Mujahideen fought the Soviets on horseback. Then, when things turned around, U.S. Special Forces used horses to fight the Taliban."

"And where were you when all this was going on?" Stevie asked. Natasha smiled enigmatically in response. "Hm. Thought everyone would move on to the next new thing. Flying cars and jetpacks."

"We can't all be Tony Stark."

Tony himself had flown ahead in his suit. They couldn't even take the quinjet too far into the mountains, agile as it was. This was the Hindu Kush, the Roof of the World. The valley itself was over 10,000 feet high, the peaks could be twice that. Up there, the air was treacherous. Natasha had set the jet down on a flat-ish patch of ground and now the team - Stevie, Natasha, and eight STRIKE agents - were bouncing around the worst road in the world on the way to what they suspected was the base of operations for the Ten Rings.

Back in December – after he and Pepper had recovered – Tony had told them all the "truth" about what happened. His Malibu mansion had been bombed, not by the Mandarin, shadowy leader of the Ten Rings, but by Stark's fellow inventor Aldrich Killian, who'd used an out-of-work actor to cover up the lethal failure of his experiments. Mystery solved.

But the Ten Rings was real and, after a month, the actor had disappeared from prison without a trace. SHIELD investigations turned up some surprising info on the Ten Rings. Quietly, over decades, they had edged out other groups to become a major power in the shadow economy of Central Asia, trafficking in drugs and weapons all over the world. The amount of power the Ten Rings wielded was alarming, considering how little attention they'd received from the media before Killian's little stunt. So Tony, Natasha, and Stevie - in her first mission out of the country since Maggie was born - were going to investigate.

The windshield wipers squeaked across the grimy glass. Outside the window, the peaks rose abruptly from the valley floor, snow-peaked and sharp as the teeth of a saw. The skyscrapers of Manhattan were impressive, but these mountains, ancient and colossal, put them to shame. Spring had barely touched this place, a green fuzz of tough grass edging a lake rippled by wind. It could snow here, even in summer.

"It's amazing," Stevie said softly. "But so...bleak."

"There are people here who've never seen a tree," Natasha responded. She'd been here weeks ahead of the rest of the team, scouting and gathering information from the Kyrgyz tribes who lived in this harsh place. Seeking the latest bolthole of the Ten Rings. The nomadic herdsmen had told her what she needed to know - there had been a lot of activity around one particular mountain, outsiders with guns. They shot at anyone who got too close.

"How'd you get them to talk to you, anyway?" Stevie asked. "The ones I met didn't seem very forthcoming."

"Cell phones."

"Cell phones?" Stevie asked, looking away from the road in disbelief. "Who do they call?"

"Nobody." Natasha smiled. "They take pictures and play music."

For a while, they looked out the window again. This time, Natasha broke the silence. "We should come back in the summer. Go camping. Visit Ishkashim - the market is great. You never know what you'll find."

"I'll take the market," Stevie said. "But not the camping. I've slept on enough rocks for one lifetime, thank you."

They drove on a little more. Stevie started drumming on the steering wheel.

"She's alright," Natasha said, reading her nervousness.

"I know that," Stevie replied.

"She's as safe as she can be."

"I _know_ that."

Maggie was in a secret hideaway where Clint stashed his family - a cute farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. When Stevie had told him she was planning to go on a mission for the first time since Maggie was born, he'd offered it to her.

"Laura'd love to meet her," he'd said, showing no reaction to Stevie's obvious surprise. "And the kids."

That was where Maggie was now, with the family, including Clint, who'd said he was due for some vacation. He'd sent her a text last night: _Having a blast. The kids love M. They'll be asking for a little sister soon._

Stevie couldn't tell which was worse - the idea that Maggie was missing her, or the idea that she wasn't. Natasha's voice cut through her thoughts.

"You know, you could have worked up to it. Started with a mommy's night out before you went to Afghanistan."

"It's like jumping into a cold pool," Stevie replied. "You've got to do it all at once. Ah, here we are."

She turned on the radio to the truck behind her. "Looks like the road's run out, Rumlow. Time to find a parking space and get hiking."

"Thank God," his familiar, Brooklyn-accented voice came over he speaker. "I was losing feeling in my ass. No offense, Boss."

"None taken," Stevie said with a smile. "But a few hours at these elevations and you might change your tune."

* * *

They parked the jeeps where the road ran out, shouldered their packs, and started on the track that would take them up the mountain. Tony Stark, still flying recon ahead, had assured Stevie that this path was clear, and out of sight of any lookouts.

"You're sure they didn't see you?" She asked, teasingly. "You're not exactly low profile."

"Give me some credit. I designed a stealth mode for exactly this situation," his voice came back over her headset. "Having a nice walk?"

She disconnected him.

The wind gusted around them as they climbed, stinging their faces with gritty dust. Everyone wore gray desert camouflage over their body armor, even her. Underneath, she wore her "stealth suit" - navy blue, a small silver star on her chest bracketed by a design that looked like wings.

"Whooo!" Rumlow said behind her. He was tall, rangy, dark eyes set deep in his strong-boned face, a lopsided grin surrounded by perpetual five-o-clock shadow. "It's colder than a witch's tit up here. How're you doing, boss?"

"The cold doesn't bother me much anymore" she answered, truthfully. Rumlow was irreverent, blunt, and occasionally vulgar - he reminded her of the men she'd served with. It was refreshing to get some honesty out of the cloak-and-dagger world that SHIELD could be.

"I guess being a human popsicle for a few decades takes all the sting out a windy day, huh?" He laughed and pulled up his facemask to shield his mouth and nose, gesturing to the agents behind him to catch up.

Clouds were building around the mountaintops.

"Hope it doesn't snow," Stevie muttered, and Natasha grunted in response.

The sun set quickly, shadows filling the valley like a bowl of ink. They made camp in a small, circular valley, with a tiny, clear lake in the center. Tony was waiting for them, trying unsuccessfully to skip rocks.

"Hey, slowpokes," he said. "What took you so long? I've watched, like, five episodes of Downton Abbey. Sir Anthony left Edith at the altar."

One of the STRIKE agents groaned.

"Sorry" Tony said. "Spoiler alert!"

The tents were much more advanced than Stevie was used to - little domes of nylon that auto-inflated, color-matched to the terrain.

"They also mask body heat and deflect radar to foil detection from the air," Natasha added.

"The tents of the future," Stevie said.

"Oh, you'll love this," Natasha continued, pointing at the edge of the tarn, where STRIKE agents were driving what looked like matte black tent spikes into the ground. "Secure perimeter. Detects movement and sets off a silent alarm."

"Hm. And here I was planning to keep watch the old-fashioned way."

"We thought of that, too." Natasha handed her a hooded parka. "Wear this. It has the same properties as the tent."

"You know, you're cute when you're smug" Stevie said, slipping the parka over her fatigues.

"Hogwash," she replied, unzipping her tent and slipping inside. "I'm always cute. Nighty night."

* * *

The clouds that had threatened all afternoon were swept from the sky, leaving stars brighter than Stevie had seen since Belgium. The Milky Way stretched above like a silver cloud. _The Mesopotamians believed it was Tiamat's tail, the Greeks thought it was the milk of Hera._ Stevie felt a sudden stab of loneliness. Bucky should be here with her, to see these mountains in the starlight.

She head something behind her and turned. It was Tony, catching his toe on the bottom of his tent flap as he tried to come out.

"Gah! Dammit!" He whispered, hopping a little to keep from falling.

"You shouldn't be out here," Stevie whispered back."Your heat signature."

"What heat signature? I'm getting hypothermia as we speak," he responded. "I just need a minute, I couldn't sleep." He looked up for a moment. "That is a hell of a view. Can't get that in New York."

"Hmm."

For half a minute, they stood in silence. Tony tucked his hands into his armpits, hunching against the cold.

"I have bad memories," he said at last. "Of terrorists and caves. I don't know if I told you how I got this." He pointed at his chest, where the arc reactor's glow was barely visible through his clothes.

"I read your Wikipedia page."

"Really?" He turned to her in surprise. "You know that's not accurate, right? Like, anyone can edit that."

She shrugged. He continued.

"There it was, 2010. I was living it up, selling a sweet new project to the military - not far from here, I might add - when I got hit by a bomb that literally had my name on it. How many people get to say that, huh?" He smiled, but Stevie could hear the tremor under the words. "I woke up in a cave with a car battery attached to my chest cavity."

"God," Stevie said. "How horrible."

"It saved my life," he said. "The man who...put it in...was called Ho Yinsen. A genius, to pull that off with the materials he had."

Tony paused. This high in the mountains, there was still snow on the ground, hard and gritty. Tony kicked at a patch with the toe of his boot.

"The Ten Rings had him for, God, I don't know how many months. They killed his family. They threatened to burn out his tongue once, when I didn't work fast enough." Tony shuddered slightly at the memory, and tried to cover it by rubbing his arms. "The suit wasn't ready in time for us to escape. The first suit. He went out to buy time."

He looked at Stevie, and she could see the stars reflected in his dark eyes. "He shot into the air. Everything they'd done, and he shot into the air, so he wouldn't hit them."

Stevie grasped his shoulder. "He was a hero," she said. "And he'd be proud of what you've done."

"You believe in…" Tony gestured vaguely toward the sky.

"I have to believe it," Stevie replied. "Or nothing makes any Goddamn sense."

Stark nodded, cleared his throat, visibly gathering himself, putting his mask of bravado back on.

"Good talk," he said. "See you mañana. I take my coffee black."

"And you'll get it yourself, Stark," she said to his departing back.

She looked up in the silence. The last time she'd been camping the night had been punctuated by the sound of bombs falling. Now, all Stevie could here was something howling in the distance. _The wind, or a wolf?_ Wolves did live in these mountains. Leopards, too, despite how barren everything looked.

Did she believe in heaven? If people like Dr. Erskine, Ho Yinsen, Bucky...if people like that could just be snuffed out like candles, leaving nothing, then there was no point to anything. Justice was a lie.

 _There has to be something._ She thought. _I_ will _see them again. I will._

The only answer was the wind, howling.

* * *

 **Here we start a multi-chapter arc-let that ended up a little - odd. I do plan to bring back elements from this in the future. You will see what I meanin coming chapters. Sorry to be so mysterious! Anyway - the Wakhan Corridor is a real and fascinating place. What Natasha says about people using cell phones for pictures and music is true. For more info on this extremely remote environment, I recommend reading "Stranded on the Roof of the World" written by Michael Finkel for National Geographic.**


	9. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

March 13, 2013

The Wakhan Corridor, Afghanistan

* * *

"I don't like this. It's too easy." Natasha surveyed the corridor around them, walls scarred and pitted from their recent firefight.

Stevie couldn't argue. After Rumlow had neutralized the lookouts, they'd cleared the tunnels in one quick push, the terrorists' bullets sparking uselessly off Tony's armor. It had been over in minutes.

"I agree," Rumlow said over his shoulder. He stood guard over a kneeling line of prisoners, hands bound behind them with white plastic cuffs. "These guys folded like yesterday's sheets."

"Oh, lighten up," Tony said, voice tinny through his helmet speakers. "They weren't expecting the Avengers to knock down their door. Overconfidence. It's a killer."

"And who knows most about that?" Natasha murmured.

"Hey!"

"Alright, kids, settle down," Stevie said. The ribbing stopped as they looked toward her for guidance.

 _Is this too easy?_

Maybe after fighting aliens, garden variety terrorists just weren't a challenge anymore. But the level of activity Natasha's intelligence had suggested should have involved more people than they'd found. Could it be a trap?

"Tony, you sent the drones ahead?"

"I'm patching in now," he replied. There was a pause while his suit system connected to the camera feeds of the tiny robots he'd released into the caves ahead of them.

"Branching tunnels are clear. Tunnels ahead are clear. No people, no explosives."

So the Ten Rings hadn't lured them in just to collapse the mountain on them. That was reassuring.

"Wait," Tony said. "There's some kind of large chamber up ahead."

"What's it look like?"

"It's hard to say...there's some kind of interference."

"Interference?" That didn't sound good.

"Something's generating a lot of electromagnetic energy in there. it's screwing with the drones." He huffed in frustration. "I've got something that looks like a person. Maybe two people."

Natasha, Rumlow, and the STRIKE agents were all looking at her in silence. It was time to make the decision that would lead to victory or defeat. Stevie felt the weight of the moment – the thrill of it.

"Natasha's information was pretty clear," Stevie said. "I don't think it could have been falsified. If we leave now, there's no backup team. We'll lose this chance for good. We go ahead."

Natasha nodded, a little smile quirking up one side of her mouth. Stevie found herself smiling in response.

"But let's be smart about it," she continued. "Rumlow, Jenner, Ramirez – stay out front. Guard the prisoners and the entrance. I don't want us getting flanked."

Rumlow grimaced, but nodded. "Yes, boss."

"Everyone else – we enter the chamber together. Tony, what can you tell us?"

"Best I can tell, it's about fifty feet in diameter. There's some kind of platform built out over the floor. I couldn't get much."

"It's better than going in blind. Tony, you'll be point, with me. The STRIKE team will fan out behind us. Natasha, use us as cover. Get into a good position and stay inconspicuous. If the situation calls for it, you can give whoever's in there a nice surprise."

"I do love surprising people," Natasha replied.

"Got it?"

Everyone nodded, varying levels of excitement and anticipation in their faces.

"Good. We don't know what's in there, so be ready for anything."

The tunnel sloped downward. As they moved deeper underground, the air grew colder, until Stevie could see her breath. They moved as quietly as they could – although it was difficult for Tony to mask the noise of his suit, which crushed gravel with every heavy step. The tunnel took a sharp jog to the left, and Tony stopped them with a raised hand, voice murmuring from his suit directly to their headsets.

"After this turn, the tunnel opens up pretty much immediately. Time to rock and roll, Captain?"

Stevie's senses were sharp. The blood was singing in her veins. She was ready to act.

"Time to rock and roll," she said. "Go!"

The STRIKE agents echoed the command. "Go! Go! Go!"

They burst around the corner and out onto the platform, boots thumping on the rough wood. Tony and Stevie went in first, the STRIKE agents behind them with rifles up, scanning the edges of the room. Natasha had already melted into the shadows.

"What the – ?"

The room itself was as Tony had described - large, roughly circular, the platform built out over a steep drop-off. Stairs led down from the platform to the cavern floor a sheet of ice, smooth and milky green as polished jade. But that wasn't the strange part. Embedded in the far wall, jutting out of the craggy stone, was a tapering cylinder as black and slick as oil. An unnatural chill came off it in waves, colder than the wind outside had been, cutting right through Stevie's suit. On its surface, strange lights moved, casting eerie, flickering shadows.

It took a moment for Stevie to even notice them- two people, standing in front of the monolith, where the stone met the ice. One was an old man in a black coat, gray hair swept back from a high forehead. Stevie frowned. It was hard to see in the shifting light, but there was something familiar about that man, about his eyes. The other was a young woman, slim as a dancer, with coppery skin and a face that brought to mind a bird of prey. She wore a blue, high-necked coat trimmed with black fur. As Stevie watched, she brought a silver pocket watch out and consulted it.

"That took longer than I expected," she said, her voice bearing traces of an accent Stevie couldn't place. "Did you stop for a smoke in the hall?"

"I'm told men never ask for directions," Tony responded.

The woman frowned."Not your best comeback, Mr. Stark."

"What can I say, you took me by surprise. You'll get the full comedy hour on the way to the Triskelion."

The old man stood by without speaking. He could have been sixty or eighty, straight-backed, piercing eyes glaring from his careworn face. Stevie knew she had seen him before. Who was he?

"I don't think so, Mr. Stark," the woman continued. She turned to the old man. "Now would be a good time to explore the terms of our agreement, don't you think, Mr. Lensher?"

Lensher. It came back in a rush, the prison in the mountains, the girl who saw the future, the boy who could tear planes in half with his mind.

 _Erik._ Fear seized her, cold as ice in her veins.

"Out!" She shouted. "Everyone out now!"

Erik lifted one gloved hand, and the platform collapsed beneath them. The ice cracked with a noise like a gunshot. Stevie rolled to her feet. She'd lost her shield and pistol in the fall. _Metal._ Erik had them now. She ran for him, but something whipped past her face and cut her across the cheek. In front of her was a storm of shrapnel, sharp metal fragments whirling like a dust devil even though there was no wind. She backed away from it and it followed her, pushing her back until she bumped into a STRIKE agent coming from the other direction. She spun in place – all the STRIKE agents were with her, inside the vortex, weaponless. Corralled. Tony was outside it, hovering above the ice. He raised his hand at Erik, repulsor humming as it powered up for a burst.

Erik twitched his fingers, and Tony's suit peeled off him, like a newspaper coming apart in the wind. It slammed into Natasha, who Stevie hadn't even seen creeping up from the shadows around the cave wall. The suit sealed itself around her, and Tony fell to the ground with a surprised squawk.

Stevie clenched her fists in frustration. She couldn't get through. Her physical speed would mean nothing to someone whose power moved at the speed of thought. Erik could easily turn those shards into javelins and kill them all.

 _He could. But he hasn't. That means there's something somebody wants. There's an opening._

Tony scrambled to his feet and made a sudden lunge at the older man. Erik clenched his fist, and Tony stumbled to his knees, clutching his chest.

"The heart of Tony Stark," Erik said with surprising venom. "Who would have thought it was so fragile."

"Erik!" Stevie shouted. The old man stiffened, though he didn't look at her. "I know you remember me. If you feel any gratitude at all for what I did for you and Margot, let me come through. I just want to talk."

He gave no indication that he'd heard her, but Stevie stepped forward anyway, into the wall of spinning blades. They parted around her as smoothly as a flock of birds.

"Captain Rogers. It's good to see you well."

His voice had changed, of course. It was deep and resonant, a compelling voice. One people would follow.

"I wish I could say the same," she replied. "After everything that happened to you, you're working with the Ten Rings? They're drug smugglers and murderers, Erik."

"I always regretted leaving without thanking you, Captain," he said. "But you knew little of me when we met, and now you know less. This is none of your affair."

Erik released his grip, and Tony fell forward onto both hands, face ashen, wheezing. From within the dead Iron Man armor, Stevie could hear Natasha's muffled shouts.

"What happened to you?" She said. "You wanted to save lives, to protect people."

He turned on her in fury.

"I am protecting _my_ people! I watched them disappear into labs, to be cut apart by madmen your government set free. Yes, even your precious SHIELD is not innocent, Captain. Clean your own house before you question _my_ decisions."

Stevie was stunned into silence. The woman spoke to fill the gap.

"I do love to see old friends get reacquainted," she said in her musical voice, stepping smoothly out onto the cracked ice.

When she reached Stevie, she stopped to look her up and down. Despite her delicate build, she radiated confidence. More than confidence. Command. This close, Stevie could see that her face was crossed with hair-thin scars from brow to cheek, from lip to jaw, from the temple to the corner of one eye. And those eyes...so old in her young face. She grasped Stevie's shoulders in a firm grip and squeezed before releasing her.

"There really is no substitute for Erskine's process, is there?" She asked, as if talking to herself. "What wonderful work."

"You're the Mandarin," Stevie said. "Aren't you?"

The woman clapped her hands at that, laughing in childlike delight.

"Excellent! You guessed my name! Sadly for you, I won't rip myself in half at the revelation. What was it that gave me away?"

"I can't imagine anyone else being so..." _Arrogant_. "Confident. In the face of three Avengers and a STRIKE extraction team."

Said STRIKE team was still imprisoned behind a wall of whirling knives. Was it still shrinking around them?

 _If Erik wanted to kill them, he could have. She's the boss here. There's something she wants._

"If you wanted to talk to me so much," Stevie continued. "You could have sent me an email. I do that now."

"Wonderful bravado, Captain," the Mandarin said. She paced around Stevie as she spoke, forcing her to keep turning. "Some conversations...Well, when a person has been chipping away at your operations, arresting your lieutenants, generally being a thorn in your side...That's a conversation you need to have in person. And with every possible advantage." She nodded briefly in Erik's direction.

"So, you want me to promise to leave you alone? Scout's honor? Doesn't seem like your style, if you'll pardon me for saying so."

"And now the old-fashioned charm." The Mandarin's smile was the edge of knife. "How many people know that it's all an act, Captain? The weapons of women – courtesy, tears, the whisper in the ear. I've used them myself, but they don't really suit you. You favor the direct approach, I think."

Out of the corner of her eye, Stevie saw Tony slowly getting up again, rising to one knee.

"You're right, of course," the Mandarin continued. "It isn't my style. In the old days, I would simply have had you killed. But you and your friends are celebrities. People like you don't just vanish into the mountains without a trace. Not anymore. The world is changing, but I've worked too hard to give up what I've built."

At that her pacing stopped, and she looked up at the shining column lodged in the cave. It gave her face a strange blue glow, light shifting and flickering. She reached out a slender hand that came just short of touching its slick, black surface.

"It speaks to me sometimes," she murmured. "It shows me things. Do you hear it?"

Stevie realized with a start that she had lost a few moments staring at the light moving on the surface of the monolith. The Mandarin looked mesmerized by it, hand still raised. Even Erik was staring at the column, hands slack by his sides, the metal storm around the STRIKE agents slowing. Stevie caught Tony's eye. He had come to a crouch. She flicked her eyes at Erik, and nodded.

"Now!"

Tony sprang for the older man at the same moment Stevie pulled the Mandarin into a chokehold – one forearm on her throat, other hand behind her head. Tony had barely reached Erik before the other man raised his hand and he collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain.

"Let him go, Erik!" Stevie commanded. "Unless you think you can kill him before I snap her neck."

"You wouldn't," he said, glowering.

"You knew little of me when we met, Erik. Your words."

"It'd be embarrassing to...go out on the job market with this on your...resume," Tony croaked. "You being a bodyguard and all."

Stevie met Erik's eyes glare for glare, and did her best to channel Bucky's cold stare, his souvenir from his time with Dr. Zola.

"Release us. Now. Or I kill her."

The moment lengthened. Erik's hands twitched in his black leather gloves. Then, the Mandarin gave a choked laugh.

"Good try, Captain," she said, hoarsely. "But really, do you expect anyone to believe you're the neck-breaking type? Don't worry, we won't have to call this bluff. Wanda, sweetheart?"

A young woman emerged from the shadows at the edge of the cave. No. That wasn't right. She had always been there. Stevie's eyes had just...looked around her all this time. Stevie's mind had cut her out of the picture. She felt her flesh crawling and readied herself…

Stevie blinked. She was kneeling on the ice, cold biting into her legs. The Mandarin stood in front of her, the girl to one side. Stevie wanted to turn her head, to stand up, to speak - but her body wouldn't obey her.

"As I was saying earlier," the Mandarin said. "I found myself with a conundrum. I couldn't kill you, but couldn't let you go. And certainly couldn't let you tell anyone about what was in this cave. But what if you returned from your investigation and told Fury that you found nothing? That it had been a dead end? I'd call that an elegant solution, wouldn't you?" She smiled, but her eyes were cold as the ice beneath her feet. "Wanda, if you would."

The young woman stepped into Stevie's line of sight. Her face was round and pale, with long, black hair and huge, dark eyes.

"Margot?" Stevie whispered. But that was impossible. Margot would be an old woman. This girl was twenty at most.

"Don't be afraid," she said. Her voice wasn't Margot's. Low, throaty with an accent that hinted at Eastern Europe. "This won't hurt."

Stevie's heart had started to pound in her chest with the helpless terror of a trapped animal. The girl was inside her mind. Stevie could _feel_ her there, inside her memories.

"No," she said. Did she say it? Or only think it?

 _Don't forget. Don't forget._ _The monolith. Erik._

Stevie could feel the memories slipping away from her, like sand underfoot. _No. Those are mine._

"Do you know what the monolith says to me?" The Mandarin's voice was one point in the darkness closing in on her. " _You're not ready for what's coming._ "

* * *

"Well, that was a whole lot of nothing."

Tony slouched in one of the quinjet's rear seats, holding a blue gel pack to what promised to be a spectacular black eye. It turned out The Ten Rings had pulled out of their cave headquarters, leaving it mined behind them. Tony had taken the brunt of the explosion, saving all their lives, as he was happy to recount, at the cost of his suit.

"Expensive nothing, too. Do you know how much those suits cost?"

"Well, the next one you make can be more durable," Natasha deadpanned from the co-pilot's seat.

Stevie was in the pilot's seat, hands on the controls, smoothly directing the jet over the widening valley. But she couldn't remember buckling herself in. She couldn't remember driving back down the mountain. Or leaving the cave.

 _How did I get here?_

 _You got everyone out. You shielded them as the tunnel collapsed. A stone hit you on the head._

Right. That was what had happened. Of course. Stevie shook her head.

"Need me to take over?" Natasha asked. "You don't look so good."

"Thanks," Stevie unbuckled herself and moved to a seat at the rear. Her head ached terribly. The STRIKE team around her didn't look much better than she felt, dusty and bruised.

"Hey, Cap," Rumlow handed her a bottle of water, which she took gratefully. "Don't look so glum. No one hits it out of the park all the time."

She smiled. Suddenly she felt tired. "What matters is that we're all safe. We'll get them next time for sure."

The agents smiled back wearily and settled in for the flight. Stevie leaned back against the hard padding and closed her eyes. As she hovered on the edge of sleep, a voice came to her from the darkness.

 _You're not ready for what's coming._

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, everybody!**

 **Yes, Erik has come back, with strange allies and unfathomable plans. This will come into play in Winter Soldier, but will become more relevant after that storyline. As always, I welcome your feedback.**


	10. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

November 28, 2013 – Stark Tower

* * *

She arrived at Thanksgiving dinner sweaty, frazzled, and very late, carrying an overtired and unhappy Maggie on one hip. The party was being held in one of Stark Tower's "commons" - classy and ultra-modern, all multi-leveled glass lofts and mellow jazz coming from invisible speakers. Looking down from the balcony where she'd come in, Stevie saw SHIELD agents, Avengers and Stark Tower employees all gathered on squared-off couches and stiff armchairs, chatting with plates balanced on their laps. Maggie let out that special whine that meant she was on the point of crying and Stevie bounced her until she subsided with a sniffle. She'd been hoping to make her excuses quickly to Tony and get out of there, but of course he was in the center of everything, handing out beers and cracking jokes. She sighed.

As soon as Stevie had made it to the bottom of the stairs, Pepper appeared at her elbow.

"Sorry I'm late," Stevie said, shifting Maggie from one hip to the other. "I also didn't bring the rolls I signed up for."

"Don't worry about it." Pepper said. "That's why they call it 'pot-luck' not 'pot-plan'. Natasha told me what happened. Talk about a job gone bad."

"You can say that again."

Dr. Sana Amanat, SHIELD defense expert and Nobel Prize winner, was set to give a speech at her alma mater, Brooklyn College. Stevie was doing double duty – making sure nothing went wrong and warming up the crowd with her "local girl makes good, saves world" story. Ironically, the public speaking part was what she'd been the most nervous of - addressing people as "Captain America" made her feel like she was back on stage in the USO, selling war bonds with the dancing girls.

The speech had gone fine, at least Stevie thought so. But on the way back their car had run over a spiked strip, and a gang of mercenaries had tried to kidnap Dr. Amanat. Thank heavens Natasha had been in the car as backup.

Natasha herself was sitting on a couch next to Bruce Banner, beer in one hand. In the time since they'd both made it back to the Tower, she'd somehow been able to change into a black cocktail dress, do her makeup _and_ style her hair.

 _I guess a quick change is a good skill for a spy._ Stevie was pretty sure she smelled like smoke bomb fumes, and she definitely had spit-up on her shirt.

"I'm afraid I can't stay," she said. "Maggie's teething. She woke up when I got back and refuses to go down. I think she's worried I'll leave again if she takes her eyes off me."

Maggie rubbed one eye with a chubby fist and pressed her face into Stevie's shoulder.

"That's perfectly..."

"What's this? Can't stay?" Tony had somehow reached the two of them while Stevie was distracted. "Can't stay for Thanksgiving? How...un-American."

He held his arms out to Stevie. "Come on. Let uncle Tony try."

"I don't think..."

"Gimme, Rogers."

"Alright." _On your own head be it._

Stevie started counting silently as she deposited the sticky toddler into Tony Stark's arms. Maggie started to squall before she had reached seven.

"Hey," Tony said gently. "It's okay, Mags. Look, it's Uncle Tony. I'm a fun guy. Oh, jeez..."

Maggie's cries cut through the saxophone and bass, prompting sympathetic looks from Stevie's assembled coworkers. It occurred to Stevie that most of them didn't have children. Which was starting to look like it had its perks.

Bruce set his glasses on the end table and levered himself from his couch. "Let me try."

Tony handed over the angry Maggie with barely concealed relief. Stevie took a half step toward him, but Bruce had obviously held children before. He cradled her against his chest and began to sway from side to side, humming tunelessly as he moved back to his couch in the corner. Maggie's wails subsided to whimpers, then sniffles, then she just rested against his chest, blinking out at the world as he murmured something soft and low.

Stevie exhaled a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"It's like defusing a bomb," Tony muttered.

"You got that right." Stevie looked down at her rumpled, sweaty t-shirt. "Ugh. Should I change?"

"Nonsense," Tony scoffed. "This is family. Sit down anywhere. I'll get you a plate. The works?"

"Please."

She let herself collapse into a cream-colored armchair – fortunately, softer than it looked. While it was hard to make her tired, the constant alertness demanded by parenthood left Stevie profoundly weary. Some nights, she'd wake up, heart pounding, and have to watch Maggie breathe before she could go back to sleep. The last time she'd felt like this, she'd been in an active combat zone.

"Hey, soldier." Natasha sat down next to her and handed her a coke. "Cheers."

"Cheers." Stevie hadn't realized how thirsty she was. She drained half the bottle in one long gulp. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Natasha said with her usual half smile.

Stevie glanced almost involuntarily over her shoulder, where Bruce was leaning back against one arm of the couch, Maggie with one round cheek squashed against his chest, her eyes shut.

Natasha followed her gaze. "He's very good at controlling the change, you know," she said softly. "Besides, the main threat at a Thanksgiving dinner is awkward conversation. That's never brought out the other guy before."

"I wasn't worried," Stevie replied, only half a lie. She was always worried about Maggie to some degree. Handing her to a man who occasionally became a ten-foot green juggernaut was an exercise in trust. "I'm amazed. It's been less than five minutes and she's asleep. How?"

"Sheer boredom," Tony interjected, handing her a plate. "It's an effect he has on women."

It looked like Tony had brought her one or two of every item on offer. Stevie only recognized about half the food in the precarious heap, but right now she was hungry enough to eat anything. A metabolism four times faster than the average human was a blessing and a curse. She could barely keep herself from licking the plate.

"So," Natasha murmured when Tony had moved away. "Are you going to take the job in DC?"

"I think so," Stevie responded. "I haven't really decided. I mean, I've always lived in New York. Except for when I was in some Belgian forest, but...New York is home, you know?"

Being out in the city was like a thousand tiny cuts. She'd gone for a walk in Bryant Park, and for a second she'd been back in 1934 at the Macy's parade, watching Micky Mouse float down the street, Bucky asking her if she needed a box to stand on. The truth was, she was an exile. She could never go home. Her home didn't exist. It would be better to live somewhere that wasn't so full of memories. That was where the job came in. Nick Fury had offered her a consultant position at the Triskelion, SHIELD headquarters, in Washington DC.

"Free childcare, great pay, and your tactical know-how could be of use to SHIELD teams around the world, even when you aren't in the field yourself." That was how he'd put it. And it sounded great – except…

Stevie looked at Tony, circulating with the guests, getting food for people, ordering JARVIS to change the music so he and Pepper could dance. He didn't really have a family. For a long time he hadn't had many real friends. He'd loved being able to play uncle to Maggie, to get her outlandish gifts and goof around. To have a friendly neighbor. A living connection to his father – the only one he had left.

"Living rent-free in Stark Tower is pretty great," Natasha continued, watching Stevie sidelong with those inscrutable eyes.

"I'm not gonna lie about it." It was like the palace in Beauty and the Beast - invisible servants really would tend to your every need. "JARVIS starts my coffee exactly five minutes before I wake up every morning, which is nice."

But at the same time, she felt like a bean in a hatbox, rattling around her huge suite. And Maggie...she needed to grow up somewhere normal. Well, as normal as the daughter of Captain America could get. Somewhere with other children, at least.

There was a lull in the conversation, and, as if intentionally, the door at the top of the stairs opened to Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "When a routine escort mission turns into a hostage situation, _someone_ has to do the paperwork."

He gave Pepper a one-armed hug, before handing her a box. "I brought ice cream cake."

Cheers from the other guests were quickly shushed by Bruce, who pointed frantically at the sleeping child on his chest.

Fury made his way around the room, getting a plate, greeting the guests. There was something strange about him that Stevie couldn't place, until she realized he wasn't wearing his black trench coat and shoulder holster. She'd never seen him so dressed down. _Does he wear jeans on his days off?_ She wondered. _Does he_ have _days off?_

Natasha excused herself to return to Bruce on the couch, and Nick Fury took her place with a sigh.

"Sorry about the paperwork, boss," Stevie said.

"It's Murphy's Law, Rogers," he said. "If something can go wrong – it will." He paused to eat a roll. "So, have you given the job more thought? Are you in?"

Stevie looked around the room. On the couch, Bruce had just said something to make Natasha laugh. Tony took Pepper's wrist and swung her into an impromptu waltz in the open space between two love seats, while Dr. Rao earnestly explained something to a young SHIELD scientist using beer bottles and napkins as props. She felt...home. Not in this place, but with these people. She didn't have to hide in the tower. She could go out into this new world. Because they would still be with her.

"Yes," she said. "I'm in."

* * *

 **On the fifth day of Christmas, sweet Thirdcrow gave to me...the final chapter(s) of this story!**

 **What? You say. Already? Yes, sweet reader. Don't fear, I'm already at work on Winter Soldier...which means it will be finished sometime in 2018. No guarantees on when...**

 **Bruce Banner's uncanny ability to calm babies is based on my friend Jarrod S., who has demonstrated this real-life superpower with both my children. That's why he's their godfather!**

 **The kidnapping of Dr. Amanat comes from the comic "Captain America: Homecoming".**

 **As always- let me know what you think of the chapter!**


	11. Diary 4

_November 30, 2013_

 _Dear Bucky,_

 _Some days, everything is loud, and fast, and bright, and I want to just go home and sit in a closet._

 _But other days…_

 _We went to the Stark Expo back in 1943, but we never got close to imagining what the future would really be like._

 _People carry little computers around in their pockets. They can ask the computer a question, and it will answer them. We landed on the moon, and sent robots to Venus, Mars and Titan. We made new elements. We cured polio. The movies are in 3D, and they can make the monsters look real enough to touch._

 _And that's not even touching the thing's Tony is working on – robots and space ships, just like the stories we used to read._

 _But for the people here, it's all normal. It's just the world they live in._

 _I'd love to show it all to you- the food, the gadgets, the music (although honestly, a lot of the music just sounds like so much noise). So I'm showing it all to Maggie instead. I have a list, and we try something new every day. Every day I'm not fighting terrorists in a cave, anyway._

 _Today we tried Pad Thai. I liked it – Maggie wasn't so sure. It's...noodley. Spicy. It's got peanuts, and limes. Definitely something I'd try again._

 _But some days, after Maggie is in bed, I turn off the lights and put on one of my Billie Holiday records and pretend. I imagine I've dreamed everything – this strange, beautiful, terrible future - and I'll wake up back in 1945 where things made some kind of sense. It's exhausting sometimes. Being optimistic._

 _Wish you were here._

 _Stevie_


End file.
